Chapter 81 #3
“Cade,” he grits out, not looking away from me. “Help me out. Sit our girlfriend the fuck down.”
“Cade, don’t you dare.” I snap at him over my shoulder.
He steps up and places his hands firmly on my hips. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughs, not sounding sorry at all. “But after last night? You teasing us all night just to pass the fuck out, giving us both a raging case of blue balls? I’m with Lex on this one.”
He kisses my neck and pulls me down in one smooth, unforgiving motion, until Lex is completely buried all the way inside of me.
“Ah! Traitor!” I cry out, breathless, head tipping back against Cade’s shoulder.
“Thanks, babe,” Lex moans sitting up, arms wrapping tight around my waist. His mouth crashes into mine.
His kiss is all tongue and hunger, stealing every breath as he thrusts up into me deep, perfect, and entirely overwhelming.
My body arches against him, chasing every movement, every sound, every inch of him.
“Ah! God, Lex,” I gasp, clawing at his shoulders as the rhythm builds, wild and unstoppable.
He groans low against my neck, his grip bruising, his pace ruthless. “You feel so good, malyshka,” he growls, voice rough and ragged.
He pushes deeper, pulsing inside me as his own release hits. His teeth find my neck. He bites down with a moan just hard enough to leave a mark.
A promise.
A claim.
He lays back and I collapse against Lex’s chest, breathless and wrecked, every part of me humming with heat and heartbeats. His arms stay around me, strong and sure, holding me like I’m something sacred. Like I’m home.
Cade slides in beside us, warm and quiet, one arm curling around my back, his lips brushing the crown of my head. The bed shifts under our tangled limbs—sweaty skin, tangled sheets, quiet laughter and soft exhales. A mess. A miracle.
We don’t say anything. We don’t need to.
Because for the first time since Daddy died. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel whole again. Not fixed. Not healed completely. But held. Loved.
???
Home
66 Days Since Daddy’s Death
I’m halfway in a suitcase and one minor crisis away from losing it.
“Where’s my second set of fishnets?” I mumble, digging through a pile of bodysuits. “Not the shredded ones, the performance pair. The ones that don’t scream, I blacked out and fought a raccoon”
“Check the hamper,” Cade calls from the closet. “You wore them the other day at practice for Javi’s salsa gauntlet.”
Lex lifts his head from where he’s sprawled on the rug, halfway through packing his duffel. “Hold up, we have gauntlets now?” His eyes flick to me instantly, brow raised. “How the hell did I miss that?”
I toss another skirt across the room. “You didn’t, baby. You were too busy watching me dance to notice what Javi called it.”
Lex grins, shameless. “Damn right. You in heels? That’s the only thing I’m ever paying attention to.” He leans back on one elbow, tongue running across his bottom lip. “You could dance the Macarena and I’d still be hard as fuck.”
I finally spot the fishnets dangling off the headboard like some kind of lacy war trophy and groan. “Why are they up there?”
Lex shrugs. “Because you wore them up there.”
Cade chuckles from the closet.
“Good times, baby.” Lex grins.
I shake my head and stuff the fishnets into my bag. “God, we are not normal.”
“Speak for yourself, baby. I’m the picture of mental stability.”
“Your suitcase is filled with protein bars, brass knuckles, and three different colognes.”
“Exactly. Essentials.”
Cade emerges with an armful of folded outfits. “You don’t have to bring everything, you know, sweetheart. We’ll only be gone a few days.”
“Tell that to my anxiety,” I mutter, zipping a garment bag with way too much force.
Cade crosses the room and presses a kiss to my temple. “Hey. We’ve got this. You’ve got this.”
I exhale. “Yeah. I just… I want it to be perfect. If we don’t win at Nationals, we don’t go to Worlds. I don’t want to screw it up. And what if the judges hate me? The fact that he’s going to be on the panel scares the living shit out of me.”
“You won’t,” Cade says gently. “And they won’t. You’re going to kill it. All three of you.”
Lex flops onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. “If that bastard even thinks about looking at you the wrong way, I’m filing a formal complaint.”
“Lex…”
“I’m serious, baby. One head tilt, one smug little look, lick of his lips, and I’m dragging his ass off the panel myself.”
I toss a balled-up sock at his head.
He catches it midair, smug as hell. “Ha! Still got it.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.
Cade nudges my suitcase closed and latches it for me. “Go triple-check your makeup bag, sweetheart. I already pre-packed snacks and chargers. I’ll go take the rest of the bags to the car.”
I exhale and smile at him. “How are you so perfect?”
“Lex packed vodka and a switchblade,” he laughs. “I packed trail mix and your travel migraine kit.”
Lex lifts a pointed finger toward Cade. “Balance.”
???
The limo eases to a stop at the edge of the private tarmac just as the wind decides to attack. Winter in New York doesn’t just bite, it claws. Sharp and unforgiving. The kind of cold that slices straight through your coat, your sweater, and your soul.
I yank my beanie down tighter over my ears and brace against the gust as the door opens. Ellie hops out first, bundled in a sherpa-lined cream jacket that makes her look like some golden Upper East Side snow bunny.
Haley follows, her long burgundy coat cinched tight at the waist, wind catching the ends like a damn runway moment. Rosethorne royalty in full winter glam.
Cade steps out of the car, steam curling off his coffee like he conjured the cold just to look that good in it.
He’s wearing a tailored black wool coat that is so perfect it should come with a warning label all sharp at the shoulders, cinched at the waist, and the collar popped against the wind.
Underneath, his gray hoodie peeks out casual and effortless, just like him.
Then there’s Lex.
A walking storm cloud. Hood up. Shoulders squared. Black gloves on those hands that have ruined me more times than I can count. His coat’s some Bratva-grade winter armor, still open just enough to show a glimpse of the Phoenix on his chest.
He looks pissed at the cold. Pissed at the wind. Pissed at the fact that his boots are probably too nice for this tarmac. But mostly, he looks hot enough to melt the damn snow.
“Why the hell do people not believe in heated sidewalks?” Lex grumbles.
“Because then you’d have nothing to complain about,” Cade replies, smirking. “Plus, aren’t Russians supposed to love the cold?”
Lex levels him with a dead stare. “Fuck that shit. I’m two seconds away from turning back and throwing hands with winter.”
Ellie huffs. “You two sound married.”
Haley adds, brushing snow off her coat, “Well they’re kind of Bella-married. So, the bickering tracks.”
Lex just grins and drops his arm around my shoulder. “Where’s our ride, baby?”
I nod toward Project Dylan’s newest sleek black jet sitting just past the security gate. A predator on the tarmac. Minimalist silver markings. Custom tail number. No logo. Just danger and speed wrapped in matte black.
Cade whistles low. “Jesus, Bella. That’s not a jet. That’s a damn Batmobile with wings.”
“Don’t get hard over it,” Lex says, dragging his duffel. “We’re not even on board yet.”
The hangar doors slide open with a mechanical hiss.
And as if summoned by Satan himself, out strides Eric, looking like he just walked off the set of Top Gun: Apocalypse.
Leather bomber jacket worn like a second skin, scuffed combat boots pounding across the concrete with swagger, and Ray-Bans hiding eyes that have probably seen war, whiskey, and way too many bad landings.
He’s got that unshaven, vaguely feral, I’ve survived three plane crashes and one bar fight this week kind of energy. A crooked grin plays on his mouth, equal parts cocky and unhinged.
“Bells!” he calls. “You brought the whole damn entourage.”
Lex’s eyes narrow. “Who the hell is that?”
“That,” I say, grinning, “is Eric.”
Lex raises a brow. “Pilot Eric?”
“Yup,” Cade says without hesitation, already looking worried.
“The one who flew you and Zeke out of Thailand on three minutes’ notice?” Lex asks.
“The one and only,” I reply, already bracing.
Lex squints. “Didn’t he get kicked out of the FAA’s database for hacking it so he could change his pilot’s license to say Sky Daddy?”
Cade sighs. “Also, true.”
Right on cue, Eric laughs, “Welcome to Air Chaos, motherfuckers! Trademark pending.”
Lex stares. “Absolutely not.”
Eric points at him. “You must be the Russian mafia boyfriend.”
“Bratva,” Lex deadpans.
“Same difference,” Eric shrugs, then turns to Cade with a shit-eating grin. “Ah, Cade Whitmore. Still sour over Cabo?”
“Cabo is the reason I have turbulence-induced PTSD, Eric.”
“Son, I’m the reason you survived that turbulence. You’re fucking welcome.”
Lex frowns. “Wait, you guys went to Cabo?”
Eric waves a hand. “Not technically. But hey, great trip right?”
Cade mutters, “You said we were flying to Cabo. We landed in the Midwest during a heatwave.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “To be fair, the barbecue was worth it.”
Eric claps his hands. “And the mechanical bull. Don’t forget the mechanical bull, man.”
Cade shoots him a look. “I threw up on that mechanical bull.”
“And yet, you got back on. That’s grit, son.”
Lex just stares. “Nope. I’m not getting on a plane flown by a man who renamed himself Sky Daddy and caused a federal cyber investigation just to impress his Tinder date.”
Eric beams. “She did swipe right.”
Lex crosses his arms. “We’re going to die.”
I smile and lock my arm through his. “But we’ll die with legroom, baby.”
Eric turns to the girls and bows dramatically. “Ladies. Haley Rosethorne in the flesh, sexy as ever. Ellie Whitmore, lovely to see your sassy ass again.”
Eric stares at the mountain of bags being loaded onto the jet. “Damn, how many days are we gone again? Thought we were flying to Dallas, not staging a fashion coup.”
Ellie flips her hair. “You think this level of fabulous fits in a carry-on?”
I raise a brow. “Would you rather we under packed and complained the whole time?”
Eric raises both hands. “Shit, no. Just praying there’s still some fuel left after lifting all this.”
Knox jogs past with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cap. I only brought essentials.”
Eric eyes the gold embroidery on the bag. “Is that sequined lingerie?”
“Stagewear,” Knox says with a wink. “Very essential.”
Cade laughs, stepping around a rolling trunk. “I only brought one bag.”
Lex snorts behind him. “Yeah. And half of it is snacks for her.”
Eric nods at me. “Well, she is the type to kill over a granola bar.”
Lex smirks, pulling his hood down. “Damn right.”
“Alright, psychos. Let’s haul ass before this snow picks up and they shut down our runway. Dallas Love Field waits for no drama queen.”